


Paperwork is the Embalming Fluid of Bureaucracy

by APeculiarPersuasion



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Canon Non-Binary Character, Enemies to friends to friends with benefits to ?????, F/M, M/M, Multi-Era, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2020-10-18 19:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APeculiarPersuasion/pseuds/APeculiarPersuasion
Summary: Basically a problem of misfiled souls being solved by the two most easily irritated bureaucrats in existence, spanning ages, and the two become more attached than either ever intended to. First published work up here so I'm still working on formatting.





	1. A Problem of Eternal Significance

_ To whichever angel happens to read this first,_

Give us our souls back you bastards. We know you’ve been rescuing souls you know well are ours. We have records on every sin they’ve ever committed, and you owe us no fewer than two thousand souls over the last century. If we don’t hear back from you, we’ll break the ceasefire and hell will knock on Heaven’s gates six thousand years early. Send either the souls or a reply before the Earthly week is out.

Yours, dreadfully

Prince of Hell, Lord of the Flies, Sovereign of Gluttony, etc. etc.

Lord Beelzebub

_Lord Beelzebub,_

In your previous correspondence, you seem to have neglected those souls in your possession which are clearly in our jurisdiction. We will not be damning any humans until allowed to save those appropriate. At your earliest convenience, return what’s ours.

Sincerely,

Archangel Gabriel

_Gabriel,_

If you believe we trust you in any regard, let alone in the matter of eternal significance, you haven’t seen any of us for too long. We would be more than willing to change that. If you want your souls, come and get them.

Dreadfully,

Lord Beelzebub.

_Lord Beelzebub,_

I could say the same to you. Instead, I propose a trade on neutral ground. My subordinates inform me that Thebes is lovely.

Sincerely,

Archangel Gabriel.

_Gabriel,_

It’s as ugly as everything on Earth. Meet there on Friday. 

Dreadfully,

Lord Beelzebub

_Beelzebub,_

Sunday.

Sincerely,

Archangel Gabriel

_Idiot,_

Saturday.

-B.


	2. The City of Seven Gates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub's and Gabriel's first meeting on Earth is exactly as one might expect. Filled with bad food, exhausting the waitstaff, and full of paperwork.

When a crack of violet lightening came unaccompanied by rain, it was first attributed to children’s imaginations, and later to myth when too many farmers came together to discuss it. The cause of the disturbance knew neither the reaction, nor did he care. Humans made up all sorts of reasoning for angelic and demonic disturbances, and they didn’t show any signs of stopping. He did, however, notice that his robes were out of fashion. The white still seemed appropriate, but the exact form had shifted. Draped linen worn around the waist and a sash beneath. Simple – a bit simpler than he would have liked – but he still found himself appreciating the subtleties. He didn’t spend much time on Earth by choice, and he liked little of what he saw, but he did like the clothes…

He focused his attention away from his own corporation onto the rest of the world and realized that just agreeing on “Thebes” was not as helpful as he’d thought. The humans had gone far beyond the tower of Babel and developed the desert into a true megalopolis. He was, in spite of himself, quite impressed. He was also quite lost.

He might have wandered the city for hours, had a buzzing sense of evil not come over him. In any other circumstances, the sensation of one thousand locusts nesting in his otherwise eternally soothed, light soul would have worried him. As it was, he was enthused. He didn’t actually know what this demon Prince looked like in celestial form, let alone what they had chosen for a corporation.

So curious was he that he didn’t notice his contact right in front of him, buzzing up a storm. In fact, he had no idea that he was, in fact, towering over the Dread Prince of Hell until a tiny hand sharply came down on his cheek. He blinked and stumbled back a step, eyes scanning for his assailant. Finally, Gabriel fell on Beelzebub. He couldn’t quite believe what he saw.

A small form – or, actually, about the same height as most of the humans milling about – with black, nearly matted hair. They were as pale as a bloated, dead fish and as irritated as the flies trying to eat it. That would explain the buzzing.

“Finally. Are you deaf or can you just not hear that high up?”

“Are…” He squinted and leaned down to their height. That was, on a moment’s reflection, a mistake. The hand came down again. He was unable to feel pain, at least, much of it, so he only rubbed at his cheek vaguely. “Are you Beelzebub?”

“Yes.” They scowled back at him, daring him to comment on the obvious. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

“But – you’re so-!” He ignored their warning, even while the demon grabbed his wrist and began dragging him back to a restaurant.

“Say it and I’ll put you to a fate worse than damnation.” They were sensitive about it, then.

Gabriel somehow had the peace of mind to stop talking, if only to gather his wits. Whatever he’d been expecting, this wasn’t it.

Beelzebub dropped Gabriel off at a table before finding a server. If they were stuck on Earth for a meeting with the opposition, they were going to make the most of it. Gabriel paused before he remembered exactly why he was here at all. He waved his hand and the descriptions of a thousand souls appeared beneath him.

In later human literature, the “contract” for a human soul would be embellished. Golden writing, an old scroll. It’s very theatrical, and unsurprisingly, not remotely close to the genuine article. At this period in time, they were simple clay tablets with a few helpful notes inscribed upon them in the language of the soul’s owner. Of course, it all looked the same to Gabriel. Only Beelzebub had to muddle through bad demonic translations, and somehow that still didn’t prevent mistakes.

When the Prince returned and sat across from him, Gabriel took the new opportunity to study them, now that he wasn’t in minor shock. Their form was slight and wiry, hair not so much matted as crunchy. Blue veins shone through ridiculously pale skin, which did not so much pulse as vibrate. That explained the buzzing. Their eyes were nearly as pale as their skin, barest hints of irises distinguishing their eyes.

Beelzebub allowed a few moments of this study before snapping in front of him. “I’m not here to make nice, Gabriel. Who do you have?”

“Hm? Oh. Yes. Zasbar, of Alexandria. Admitted to Heaven on grounds of being a good son to his father.”

Beelzebub produced a few scraps of papyrus, scanning them over. “Also committed adultery against his wife while she was pregnant with their child.”

“Oh gosh. Yes, I suppose he is one of yours, then?” The problem of eternal significance felt like it should have been more than two celestial beings exchanging a tablet, but that was the problem, wasn’t it? “Now your turn.”

They picked up one of the tablets in front of them. “Naguib. Daughter of a slave who ran away, and subsequently…” They didn’t even bother reading the rest before tossing it back to Gabriel. “Whatever.” That was a fairly open and shut case, it really shouldn’t have slipped past them at all.

It went back and forth for several hours, with a small pile of contested souls between them. The servers came about with plates of bread and beer, which Gabriel didn’t even know what to do with. As he watched Beelzebub practically unhinge their jaw to swallow an entire loaf whole, he got the distinct feeling he didn’t want to.

Finally, there were only three left. Gabriel shut his eyes tightly for a few moments to stave off the exhaustion his newly issued body felt. “Alright… We still have Nkosi, Eshaq, and Neith?”

Beelzebub, who had drunk through four pitchers of beer and still wasn’t remotely drunk, nodded glumly. “I really don’t want to continue this tomorrow, Gabriel. I’ve looked at your stupid face long enough.”

“You really think it’s stupid? I’ve been practicing my emotions, and- “Oh. They were just insulting him.

“Shut up. Nkosi was the most even-handed law clerk I’ve seen in their entire history of existing. Never bent his power one way or another.”

“Well, there was that time he gave a handout to that needy child…”

“Does it count if it was his daughter?”

“… Yes?”

“Works for me.”

They threw it back to him.

“Neith was a weaver who double charged no matter who she sold to, but she did give regularly to charity…”

“She was clothed in Lapis and Gold, angel. I don’t have to ask Mammon about that one.”

“Fair.”

Another soul was tossed across the table. They’d nearly made a game of it.

“Eshaq…” They both groaned. Beelzebub ran a hand through their hair, leaving Gabriel to half flop on the floor behind him. They’d gone back and forth on the man no fewer than six times already.

“A money lender who gave to the rich and poor alike, helped to house his community, lived in near rags, and still charged an arm and a leg.”

“Defies reason, doesn’t it? What was his personal life like?”

“He was an uncle to many, and loved by most, but never a father or a lover.”

“Ugh. Can’t we just. Erase him? Send him back into the void?”

“Beelzebub!” He seemed remarkably offended by the mere mention. “How would justice be achieved! Besides. It’s against Her law.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Satan probably wouldn’t be too happy either, but they were so _tired_.

“Here’s something, he once came into money when his father dies and gave it all to the poor family at market.”

“But they were scammers, remember? They were as rich as he was.”

“But that doesn’t matter! He didn’t know, so it was the intent!”

Beelzebub considered this for a few minutes before pushing him over to Heaven’s opening arms.

“Let’s go with that. I can’t argue anymore.”

They picked up the last bit of bread and threw it into the endless maw they possessed. When they stood, they were unsteady for a minute. Stupid body’s legs had fallen asleep. Gabriel stood as well but fell right back down.

“Ow! Lord above, what…?”

“Blood isn’t getting where it needs to. You gotta take care of your body or it crumbles.”

“I’ll keep that in mind…” He pushed himself up again, much more successfully this time. “Well! It has been a….” Pleasure? No. “An experience.”

“Mm. Hope I never see you again.” They gave him their most heartfelt sincerity before sinking through the floor, much to the bewilderment of several exhausted kitchen-workers, who decided they were just hallucinating and went back to work.

Gabriel shook his head and miracled far too much money into the purses of those who had helped them. He really didn’t understand currency too well, but it seemed to be important for their living. He had the suspicious feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of the Dread Lord Beelzebub. An even more suspicious feeling told him that he wouldn’t mind seeing them again.


	3. Istanbul was...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HHhhhhhi guys this chapter is super late. Sorry, a redecorating project turned into absolute Hell - at least our idiots will understand. Have more vaguely philosophical wank and Gabriel coming to terms with his human corporation.

Lord Beelzebub,

It’s been some time since we last spoke. After several attempts to retool our judgement system, it seems we still have an overflow of mistakenly blessed souls. At your leisure, I request another meeting to trade improper files.

Sincerely,

Archangel Gabriel

Idiot,

Constantinople. Thursday.

-B

Constantinople was an amazingly variable city, owing directly to how the Eastern Roman – or Byzantium, as people were calling it now – was doing. Under Justinian it was practically as if Rapture had come and Earth became as if in Heaven. Right now, though, Gabriel did not Feel at home. He felt dizzyingly lost, and if Beelzebub hadn’t specified where they were to meet, he would doubtlessly have been hopeless. At least he knew what to look for this time. Even if they had changed corporation, their aura of rot and buzzing chaos was unmistakable.

He’d traded in his white linens for an utterly daring tan set of robes. Truthfully, he stuck out like anything between his neutral tones and being a good foot above the rest of the populace, but he was utterly oblivious to the stares around him. As the archangel rounded the corner, the air around him seemed to go stale. Hot, like breath on the back of your ear. A scent that reeked of evil, but not of Hell. Less sulfur and brimstone, more sour alcohol and metallic sweat. His nose wrinkled involuntarily, and he took to his new favorite activity to find the restaurant. His long, quick strides didn’t help his lacking camouflage.

Beelzebub was already installed in the bar, a jug of fortified wine at the table along with a jar of pickled fish, sweetmeats, and a few half eaten loaves of bread. Their body was in a constant state of half-starvation, each fly wanting its own piece of the meal. The humans surrounding the Prince were less affected than they might have been, had they been on a temptation mission, but the general air of malcontent and spite was palpable. Their pale, frothing-water eyes scanned the room constantly. They had purposefully arrived an hour late to annoy him – how could he be this lost?

Byzantine indeed…

When Gabriel walked in, he had hardly broken a sweat. He may have just sprinted for a mile, but he’d been training in his brief moments on Earth. The final war would be fought on Earth – he couldn’t get complacent! The closer he’d gotten to Beelzebub, the less concerned he became. Hellfire, rot and ruin that it was, struck fear into a Good Angel’s heart, but ti was predictable. Humans, he’d learned, were far more chaotic.

“Pursued by demons, Gabriel?” they drawled through a mouthful of preserved meat, mouth hanging open as if reveling in their own disgusting nature.

Gabriel shivered and huffed. Demons/ What was so appealing about food, anyway?

“No, I’m running to one.”

“Sarcasm, you idiot. You say anything and mean the opposite.”

“Oh. In that case, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

“I know you’re trying, but you’re still correct. Haven’t seen you since –“

“Nazareth.”

They both paused and looked away uncomfortably.

“Yeah. Still. This is gonna take us longer than a few hours. Unless you want to surrender them all like a good little Angel.”

“Mmhm. Theodora of Gardran, aided the saints and a Fool for Christ.”

“Fine.”

The technology had updated somewhat. Gone were the clay tablets of old, and in had come proper parchment. Ever fragile with the benefit of needing to be signed by Peter himself. Something about the fear of changing with the times resulting in ever more cumbersome work. Beelzebub, finding that the throwing technique they’d pioneered was no longer effective, instead flung the soul of the newly resigned soul in a homemade slingshot. Gabriel’s gentle-natured, eternal smile flickered to grimace for just a moment. Beelzebub’s emotionless face briefly melted into a smirk before resuming utter indifference.

And so it went, back and forth. The obvious saints and sinners parted, usually misfiled or something to that effect. The misfiles finished around the same time an outrageously irritated, balding man demanded payment from the strangers who had entirely cleaned out his larder. Beelzebub glared up at him and the dangerous, telltale buzzing of an incoming plague of locusts filled the air. Gabriel cut it short with a brief miracle. Generally, Heaven didn’t approve of materializing even more gold for humans to squabble over, but he felt he could call it off as a business expense. He’d grossly overestimated the cost of the food as well and all irritation at having to close shop early was replaced with images of new clothes for his wife and a tutor for his sons.

“Go in Peace, now.”

“God be with you, sir.”

Beelzebub rolled their eyes.

“Subtle, Halo head. Real subtle.”

“You could have paid him too, you know.”

“I haven’t paid for a meal since Babel. Come on, I’m hungry.”

“You haven’t stopped eating since you got here.”

“I’m the Prince of Gluttony and my physical form is millions on millions of flies acting as one.”

Gabriel shuddered, but nodded. “Granted. Are there any humans awake at this hour?”

“Oh yeah.”

They lead him back out into the night, seeking out the sorts of clubs and societies one usually needed obscene wealth to bribe their way into. Their feet padded softly on dirt pounded hard by hundreds of thousands of human feet. The sun had left, bt the stone of the buildings to either side of them held the heat well into the night.

“I thought you were the Prince of Hell itself.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Try me. I’m a quick student.”

They looked at him skeptically for a few minutes but shrugged it off. If he was the only company he had, they’d best make use of it.

“When we fell and reorganized, we recognized Lords to rule over God’s disgrace. Greed, Lust, Gluttony and so on.”

“Oh! Like our virtues?”

“No!” They barked, a tench too angrily to be a lie. “Princes! Acting independently! You have to earn it, for one. I had fuck all at first.” It was nice to see Gabriel’s delicate wince. “Got sick of the rot and ruin. Just because I can sleep on Brimstone doesn’t mean I want to.”

“So, you need to sleep now too…?”

“Makes the Corporation work better. Anyway, a bunch of us got sick of it and turned on Lucifer – wipe that smile away, I did it for completely selfish reasons. We wouldn’t go back to God for anything.”

They blew some crispy chunks of hair out of their eyes, a few flies angrily buzzing around their ears. They were already hungry – they’d waited long enough.

“Anyway, we bless near overthrew Lucifer, so he restructured. I’m Prince of Hell, and Gluttony in different capacities.”

“A whole revolution in Hell? Why didn’t we hear about this?”

“No matter how much we hated management, we hated you idiots more.”

“Ah. The enemy of my enemy is still my enemy?”

“Something like that.”

Beelzebub scowled as they passed a church, hands gripping on a sigil they kept in their pocket.

“Even a schism couldn’t stomp them out, huh?”

“Humanity will always be connected to the Lord, in many different means.”

“Michael come up with that?”

“… Maybe.”

Beelzebub miracled their way past an utterly baffled guard, keeping their usual stride. No matter the setting, they looked as though they owned the place. Gabriel followed suit, curious eyes searching the walls around them. Tapestries over sun-warmed stone, rugs across an earthen floor.

“How much time do you spend on Earth? I can never get time to myself.”

“At least a month. I do enough field work to keep myself from going insane.”

“Maybe I’ll try that… I did like delivering messages, once I got the hang of it.”

“I’d give anything to see you freak out more humans.”

“Hey! She was fine, once I put my wings away!”

“And the eyes?”

“… And my eyes.”

They snorted and grabbed another jug of wine from the counter when the bartender wasn’t looking, passing off the blame on the unfortunate sitting next to them at the bar.

“Come on, Beelzebub.”

“Simocatta of the East. Heretic who recanted on his deathbed.” They distracted him from the fistfight that began behind them. Gabriel rolled his eyes in return, snapping a few gold pieces onto the counter and a bit more peace into the air around them.

“It really seems to have been an honest mistake. Besides, we’re not as uppity about those sorts of things as human Fathers would have you believe.”

“Yeah, but he lead another hundred away your light. He’s ours.”

Considering the fight Gabriel had broken up, the one that followed was at least dwarfed in scale. No fists flew, but it was a minor miracle of some unknown third party that neither of them set the restaurant ablaze in their arguments. Remarkably, they stayed on civil terms with each other, but philosophical debates so robust and violent hadn’t been seen since the days of the Classic Helanists.

It went through the night as the club became rowdier. Lives and deaths played out in the distance as the two celestials recounted the lives of souls long gone. They’d let too much stack up, it seemed. Even by the dawn, when the exhausted waitstaff was all painted in wine and shame, they were at it. Beelzebub’s flies had started growing sluggish without the light of the sun, or the restorative properties of sleep. Gabriel, not used to being on Earth long enough to become tired, had taken to yawning every four minutes.

“How many left?”

“Uh…”

“Please for the love of Satan tell me you can count”

“I can count! Just… Words…”

“Fucking Babel, ruined everything for everyone…” They looked over the list, rubbing at their shadow ringed eyes. “Just… Fuck, ten more. You sure we can’t just flip a coin?”

“I’m closer to it this time, but the answer is still no. They’re immortal souls, Beelzebub. How would you like it if you were suddenly, randomly reassigned to Heaven again?”

“Fineeeeeee…”

“Besides, we’ve come into luck. Same disaster… Sailing the seas…” He squinted at the documents attached to the shipwreck. “Soldiers…”

“Fucking Luciferrrrrrrr” They groaned again, sprawling even further over their chair. “Had they killed yet?”

“No. Conscripted.”

“Well there you have it, huh?”

“Shouldn’t they have resisted? I mean, they know we don’t want them to kill each other…”

“How old were they?”

“Uh… Oldest was 30, youngest was 17.”

“There you have it.”

“I don’t follow.” Gabriel frowned, lips puckering lightly as he watched Beelzebub swallow an entire heel of bread.

“Humans have a strange idea of mortality. They’re not really sure if they live on after that. Death is absolutely terrifying to them.”

“But if they have faith – “

“If they have faith one way or another, it’s the hope that they won’t die before their time. I’m literally giving you souls, Gabe. Stop arguing with me.”

“Fine…”

The scrolls made their way back into Heaven’s embrace, and like that the great stacks of paperwork were neatly filed away. Peter would certainly have his work cut out for him.

“We should do this more often.”

“considering how fast they’re multiplying; I have to agree. Once a century, maybe more…”


	4. Like the Humans Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's medieval medicine funtimes, kiddos! A simple observation on mankind's struggle with the plague turns into a not so well meaning bet between a celestial being and an occult one. Whose pride will be whose downfall?

As the years traveled along, Gabriel found himself on Earth more and more often. It wasn’t necessarily by choice, but more humans meant more miracles, which meant more study. He, admittedly, wasn’t the best at that latter category. Humans were an utter enigma. Even in Heaven, they confused him. Angels were, to his mind, utterly rational beings. Guided by love, yes, but not attached to anything in particular. Humans clung to family, even if they treated them poorly in life. In Heaven, they hoped and prayed for friends who didn’t necessarily help them. Not to mention the ones still on Earth - !

Whether or not he liked it, he was on Earth more often. As such, he hardly had to schedule soul meetings any longer. He supposed by the same token, Beelzebub was around more frequently. He’d thought Nazareth was a fluke, but on closer examination it was like something kept drawing them together… They’d met just a few years ago for their annual exchange, but even disregarding those scheduled meetings, they ran into each other more often than not. He knew, on further examination, why they kept bumping into one another. They were antitheses of each other. The angel of Temperance and the Prince of Gluttony. It was disgusting, watching them devour entire larders worth of food, but strangely intriguing. He supposed it was just their hereditary memories springing up.

Even as he watched a family begging, turning the hearts of those that walked past, he could feel their presence. Hungry buzzing which was entirely distinct from standard human evil. It was just a matter of time until…

The prince of darkness, shrouded in leper’s clothing, appeared beside him. They hadn’t materialized out of the ground, rather, out of the crowd. They were still small, still slight, and still easy to lose track of, had he not been able to feel their very presence.

“Lord Beelzebub.”

“Gabriel.”

“What brings you here? I didn’t think pestilence was particularly your domain.”

“It makes for an easy disguise. The rags hide the boils. I don’t want to be glamoured every time I have to come up here. It reeks enough as is.”

“Still.”

“You aren’t healing, either, Gabriel.”

The archangel shifted his weight uncomfortably. It was true, he wasn’t good at healing at all. He had the standard suite of powers granted upon him by the Almighty, but he was no Raphael. And yet, they told him to go on Earth. Spread peace, spread good will, so spread he did.

“I can certainly do my best.”

“No reason. It’s the difference between twenty years and forty years. I’ve had flies live longer.”

“That’s a myth. Some humans live well into their eighties!” Or so he’d been told. He had no way of confirming this, save talking to one, and that had… Mixed results at best.

“They aren’t helping themselvezzzz. Have you seen what they do for medicine up here? Half lethal.”

“It can’t be that bad-!” Gabriel had no real fondness for humanity, either as a whole or on an individual basis, but he had to defend the Lord’s creation in the face of the Opposition.

Generally, this would turn into a standard argument between the Powers that Are and the Powers that Be, but instead, a frightening grin spread across Beelzebub’s lips. Their teeth were much too sharp to pass for human, and the flies crawling in their mouth didn’t do anything to help matters. Luckily, their lips were covered in sack cloth and couldn’t unnerve Gabriel any more than the regulation level of angelic apprehension.

“Are you prepared to bet on that, witherwings?”

“… What’s the wager?”

“One minor miracle as a favor. Winner’s choice.”

That had the potential to be dangerous, very dangerous indeed. But the archangel made his decision before Beelzebub opened their mouth – pride was very nearly going to damn him at this rate.

“Done.”

He smirked lightly, arms crossed across his broad, warrior’s chest. Then, after a moment, it struck him.

“… How exactly are we going to test that?”

“You’ve got a corporation, haven’t you?”

“Yes, obviously, but-“ The color drained from his face. Oh Sweet Lord above, what had he agreed to?

“I’ve got a quack who works on this one for me. Let’s see if he can get some leaches, huh? Looking a little green around the gills.”

“Firstly, I haven’t got gills. Secondly-!” He gave a slight yelp as the Prince of Hell grabbed him by the cuff of his sleeve and began guiding him through infested alleyways and even worse main streets. He was nearly whining.

“’Haven’t got any gills’, take a dozzze of courage, witherwingzzzz.” They snickered to themselves. Push comes to shove, angels could be such prissy beings. “It’z not like anything a human doezzzz can really hurt you. New corporation and back to work in the morning.”

“But I’ve worked so hard on this one, do you know how much training it takes to get a body in this shape?”

“Idle handz, angel!” They were buzzing to burst with amusement. Would this discorporate him? Probably not, but they didn’t mind one way or the other. Finally, they came upon Beelzebub’s resident quack. Long since pledged to the Church of Satan, the family had served Beelzebub as tithe for several thousand years. Angels had the benefit of healing on their side, while demonic presences could either wait the obnoxious time for their bodies to heal, or look elsewhere. Humans could be clueless, but having a family dedicated to their well-being suited the busy prince more than waiting around in their throne room.

Gabriel took one look at the crudely painted sign and gulped. Whether it was the human skull or the serpents winding around it, he was uneasy. However, he was a celestial of his word – and a favor to Hell could be a powerful thing indeed.

The apothecary had only seen his Master but once, as a child. Beelzebub wasn’t as directly responsible for strife as once they were and had fewer use of a doctor than once they did. The family was still duty-bound, and they saw to it that they remembered the deal.

“Apollyon! I’ve got a job for you!”

The young man started to attention, holding up his hand in a nervous salute. Beelzebub barely refrained from rolling their eyes. Fear was a necessity when working with humans, but it did slow proceedings down somewhat.

“Th-thank you Lord Beelzebub! What am I tasked with?”

“This one. Plague like you wouldn’t believe. Treat him.”

Gabriel tugged free of his captor’s grasp, looking between the two in nothing short of irritation. He had nothing of the sort, and however backwards the doctor was, he knew it. He knew better, however, how fruitless and ultimately dangerous it was to question his employer’s wishes.

“Right away, Lord Beelzebub. If you would lay back on the table…”

His feathers thoroughly ruffled, Gabriel slid back on the slab the good doctor had the nerve to call a table. The sensation of frigid, rough rock was enough to drive him insane. How humans managed all these sensations, he would never know.

“What will you do, then? Some aromatherapy, a brisk week in the country, or-“ he let out a long hiss as several leeches were applied to his forearm. Apollyon had apparently been under the impression that Gabriel was as loyal to his Master as he was himself, and hadn’t been expecting any sort of backlash.

“What in the Hell was that!” He tried to prop himself up, but the squirming leeches quickly put a stop to that. They had just barely had a taste of Heaven, as it were, and they weren’t eager to stop any time soon.

“Don’t be afraid, sir.” Gabriel nearly had to laugh, if only because it was strange being told that rather than speaking it himself. “It won’t be too long. A half hour or so, and my nurses will have you right as rain-“

A shiver ran down his spine as he looked to Beelzebub, who had dissolved into a fit of demonic giggles. As undignified as it was, it was admittedly horrifying to watch. Their expression stony as ever, only the corners of their lips upturned, and a ghastly wheezing that sounded like dogs on their deathbeds, even their devoted follower was frightened.

Gabriel, on the other hand, was merely frustrated.

“Enough of that, Beelzebub, I’ll weather this harder than you ever-… Ever… Heaven preserve me, what…” He felt feint for the first time since Egypt and rolled back on his massive shoulders.

“That’s the thing about corporations like that, Gabe.” They found shortening his name spared them the effort. “Takes a lot of blood to keep that thing pumping.”

“Why, pray tell, do you think this is helpful in the slightest?” He blinked angrily at the long-suffering surgeon.

“Lets out the poison, sir… Bad blood, and the cycle of the humors, not to mention-“

Either from blood loss, unexpected sensation, or the Almighty sparing him from what was going to be a very boring seminar on classical Greek medicine, Gabriel laid flat on the table, snoring lightly. Content that they had won their wager, Beelzebub snorted.

“That won’t kill him, right? Not for long, at least?”

“Of course not, Lord Beelzebub. A man can withstand the loss of half a gallon of blood before he dies. I’m not sure why he had such an adverse reaction, my nurses scarcely take a half ounce each!”

“Don’t worry about it.”

When Gabriel came to, the doctor had been allowed his rest. The sky had gone dark, along with the fire. Only a few embers left to cast shadows on Beelzebub’s boil-ridden face.

“Wha… What happened?”

“There you are witherwings. You owe me a miracle.”

“Fine… Are they gone?” He looked down at his arm, squinting to make sure the leeches had well and truly left his corporation alone.

“I got him to take them off after you passed out.”

“… I’m surprised you didn’t take advantage of the situation. No doubt an archangel’s corporation would be a good trophy down there.”

“What, and miss a miracle? You owe me, Gabe. Don’t forget it.”

They both stared at the fire uncomfortably. It would have been much more valuable, as well as impressive to take Gabriel when they had the chance. They both knew it. Beelzebub had thought of it when they’d watched him. But… History, they supposed. They didn’t want to have to establish rapport with another angel. That was all. Not friendship, barely even colleagueship.

When the fire had well and truly died, they made a hasty goodbye. A cough, shifty eyes, an exceedingly awkward handshake. All standards in the eternal war. By the books. No deviation whatsoever.

Beelzebub couldn’t believe that. Neither could Gabriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait wait officer I promise I can explain why this is so late... Work sucks and I'm not invested in medieval times whoOPS   
Updates should come more quickly from now on. Long story short, I got admitted to grad school and I've been using most of my writing time on applications and scholarships, but things have mostly calmed down! At least for the time being.


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